


night so long

by uneventfulhouses



Series: night so long [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: Shane’s breath catches, and as much as he wants to, he doesn’t turn to look at Ryan. He could. He could, but he doesn’t.He knows the answer to that question; he doesn’t have to think about it. It’s written in everything they do together, they way they look at each other, how easily life has been laid out between them, in front of them. This kind of feeling supersedes and overwrites the way he usually feels about people. Because Ryan isn’t other people; of course Ryan would invent a new way for Shane to feel about him, explicitly exclusive, one Shane doesn’t really understand, but wholly and completely recognizes. It’s something he’s spent sleepless nights pouring over, trying to figure out what movements and words mean, why they translated so easily intoI belong here in this space with you.or; it's just two boys in a motel room with a secret.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: night so long [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580413
Comments: 42
Kudos: 300





	night so long

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry this is a little achy. thanks to [jess](https://sequencefairy.tumblr.com/) for the beta work. as always, this is a work of fiction and all mistakes are my own. please enjoy!

Truth be told, he doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Doesn’t want to think about the way Ryan lay crumpled on the floor of that dingey, musty basement, unmoving despite Shane hearing his own voice _shouting_ Ryan’s name. His throat was raw from it; every time he breathes he can feel it, rough. His hands shake and he can still feel the way Ryan’s pulse thumped underneath his fingertips, how he’d opened his eyes and gasped, scrambling out of Shane’s arms—Shane wouldn’t allow it though, holding Ryan as tight as he could, trying to be brave. It wasn’t possible that Shane would forget the way Ryan, with startling realization that it was just _Shane_ holding him, had almost tried to crawl inside of Shane, fingernails gripping his shoulders; Shane can still feel his flesh throbbing.

Shane doesn’t know what happened. Neither does Ryan—so he says—but they’re both shaken, quiet. Ryan locks himself inside the bathroom as soon as they walk inside of the motel room. Shane doesn’t hear the shower or faucet or anything really, and there is so much worry, Shane feels soaked in it, wanting to sit outside of the bathroom door and just—there’s nothing he can do, he knows. There isn’t anything he can do to make this better for Ryan. He can deal with himself later. It just—it matters a lot that Ryan is okay.

Eventually, Shane hears the shower and breathing becomes a little easier, but there is still a tight compression in his chest, like at any point in time, Shane’s lungs will give out.

When Ryan comes back into the room, he’s dressed, a t-shirt and boxer shorts, and doesn’t say anything to Shane as he yanks the covers back of his own bed and climbs underneath them, icing Shane out. And Shane feels cool in a way that makes him want to light himself on fire. 

Instead, Shane leaves the door of the bathroom cracked, just so he can hear anything while he shower. He closes his eyes, and God, he feels like crying, he really does, and even in this incredibly private space, underneath the too-hot spray of the shower he doesn’t allow it; his flesh stings where Ryan had gripped him so hard. He’s seen Ryan scared before, he sees him spooked all the time. But this kind of terror is unknown to Shane—and Shane wishes they’d never allowed themselves to walk into a situation where Shane is privy to tear tracks on Ryan’s cheeks, the blood-curdling scream that was still ringing in Shane’s ears. 

The shower hadn’t done anything to minimize or dilute the way Shane felt.

When Shane steps out of the bathroom, he peers into the room they’re sharing in the nondescript motel. It looks like all the others, even down to Ryan lying in the middle of the bed closest to the door. His back is turned to Shane, and Shane wonders where Ryan’s mind has wandered. He stares, probably for too long, until he can see the shift of Ryan’s ribcage to tell him, yes, he’s still breathing. 

It’s so unlike Ryan to be this quiet; in silences like these, Ryan’s always clambering to fill it. But now, it’s just the hum of the air conditioner running—white noise. Shane could say a few things, like _I’m glad you’re alive_ , or _Are you okay?_ But he doesn’t say anything, because he’s afraid. Shane doesn’t spend much time being scared of anything; he has a knack for turning that specific emotion off, but he was scared tonight, in that moment, where Ryan was so still, he was almost lifeless. There’s a moment where Shane takes a step forward, has the insane idea to climb into Ryan’s bed and just lay there—but he’s scared of that, too, he supposes. 

When Shane reaches his own bed, he pulls back the sheets and climbs underneath them, reaching to shut off the only light left in the room. 

Ryan hasn’t said much; the ride over from their filming location to the motel was met with silence, despite the many questions Shane had. Ryan had sat in the passenger seat as Shane drove, the crew in the other car, and it wasn’t a good idea for him to be driving, but he just—he needed the space to be clear, so Ryan could say anything he wanted. At the very least, Ryan knew Shane would listen to anything he had to say, no matter how ridiculous. Except, it never came, despite Shane’s several questions of _What happened to you?_

Within the darkness, Shane tries to find sleep, but every time he does, he’s confronted with the very chilling memory of Ryan’s limp body in his arms, his fingers searching for a pulse before he’d found one finally. He can hear Ryan’s breathing from the next bed over, but it’s almost not enough. He wants to feel it, he thinks, just lay his palm between Ryan’s shoulder blades, maybe touch his chest and make sure the beats of Ryan’s heart are still there. Shane thinks that he would, without a second thought, give every single beat of his own heart to Ryan if that meant he was okay. 

The desire to move closer to Ryan fills the empty feeling in his chest, but all Shane does is tug the blankets higher, clutching them in a grip so tight his fingers hurt. 

“You’re never afraid of anything.” 

Ryan’s voice comes in a whisper, and Shane’s startled by it, turns to look over where Ryan’s laying. His back is still turned, a streak of light from the crack in the curtains shining against the fabric of his grey tee. Shane keeps watching him, like he might say something else. Anything else to explain what happened in that basement. 

Nothing else comes, just the drone of the AC and Ryan’s breathing. 

“I’m always afraid of losing you,” Shane mumbles, a confession too heavy for anywhere else, but not this nondescript hotel room between somewhere and nowhere. Not too heavy for the darkness of the room, weaseling in between deep breathing and the shuffling of feet against bedsheets. Not too heavy for them, he thinks. They could carry a confession like this easily. 

Ryan turns then, and that golden streak of night-light catches bits of his arm, his chest. It’s just a tiny bit of light in their dark room, but he can see when Ryan stands, when he gets up from his bed and crosses the short distance to Shane’s, pulling back the blankets and lying next to Shane. And they’re both quiet again, but Ryan’s breathing is louder now, shuddery deep breaths. Shane doesn’t look at him, even though he just—he just wants to _check_. 

There’s ample space between their bodies. Ryan would want it that way, Shane thinks, so he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t curl his arms around Ryan’s waist, or tuck his face into Ryan’s neck, or tangle their legs together. He just lays on his back, legs stretched to the very edge of the bed, his hands folded neatly over his chest. 

“Shane?” Ryan’s voice is a shredded whisper, like maybe he’s crying a little bit. And Shane feels it, thick in his chest, climbing up his throat and sitting there, burning. 

“Yeah?” Shane’s answer comes just as soft, but the quiet persists, insistent between the two of them. Shane’s exhaustion begins to fog his mind, and Shane is ready to succumb to it, let the haziness lull him away, but he can hear Ryan’s hiccupped breath. So, he waits. 

“Do you think we’re in love?” 

Shane’s breath catches, and as much as he wants to, he doesn’t turn to look at Ryan. He could. He could, but he doesn’t. 

He knows the answer to that question; he doesn’t have to think about it. It’s written in everything they do together, they way they look at each other, how easily life has been laid out between them, in front of them. This kind of feeling supersedes and overwrites the way he usually feels about people. Because Ryan isn’t other people; of _course_ Ryan would invent a new way for Shane to feel about him, explicitly exclusive, one Shane doesn’t really understand, but wholly and completely recognizes. It’s something he’s spent sleepless nights pouring over, trying to figure out what movements and words mean, why they translated so easily into _I belong here in this space with you_. 

“Yeah.” Shane let’s his resolve crumble, and he turns to look at Ryan, but Ryan is already looking at him. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and he knows Ryan is so, so tired.

“Yeah?” 

Shane nods. 

“Okay,” Ryan says. 

On top of Shane’s chest, where his hands lay, Shane’s heart stutters when he feels Ryan’s hand find his own. Ryan tugs his fingers, and Shane allows it, and between their bodies, between their palms, they hold this middle-of-the-night secret. 

Shane tries to hang onto it, to this moment, because he doesn’t know if it’ll be gone as soon as the sun rises. He doesn’t know if _Ryan_ will be gone when the sun rises. 

When Shane wakes, he’s warm; the AC isn’t humming, and he feels sticky, sweaty underneath the blanket, _and_ his fingers are still tangled with Ryan’s. When Shane looks over, Ryan’s wide awake, lying on his side, looking at him with curious eyes. The clock behind him on the nightstand says it’s just after six. 

“Were you watching me sleep?” Shane asks. 

Ryan nods. 

“Did you sleep any?” 

Ryan shakes his head. 

Shane blinks. 

“I was too scared to.” 

Shane grips Ryan’s fingers. “I would’ve stayed up with you,” Shane says. 

“Maybe,” Ryan says, and he cracks the smallest hint of a smile. “You were so tired. I didn’t mind.” 

Shane takes in a deep breath which ends up a yawn, one that makes his jaw knock. “Are you tired now?”

Ryan nods. “I can’t—I don’t want to close my eyes.”

That feeling wells up in Shane’s chest again, kerosene in his throat. Ryan’s eyes are red with fatigue and dark purple dances underneath them. He blinks slowly, like he’s fighting how tired he is.

“I think—” Ryan inhales, shaky, unsteady. “I can’t remember what happened, Shane. I can’t remember why I’m so scared. But I feel like if I close my eyes I—I might not open them again.”

Shane shakes his head. “I’m right here,” he murmurs. “I’m right here, and you’re right here. And nothing is going to happen.”

Ryan’s clutching his fingers so tight Shane has to untangle their hands. Ryan makes a strangled noise, reaching out, but Shane just turns onto his side, letting Ryan burrow close against his chest; Ryan’s breath is damp against Shane’s throat, and his body shakes, and tears slip from Shane’s eyes without permission and he wants to put them back. It was never supposed to be like this. It wasn’t ever supposed to become this. 

“You won’t leave, right?” Ryan whispers. 

“Never.” 

Shane doesn’t remember when he’d fallen back to sleep, but he’s certain it was somewhere after Ryan had stopped shaking against him, breathing deep and hot against Shane’s chest. Shane remembers hoping Ryan wasn’t dreaming, or worse. 

There’s a loud knocking at the door; Ryan startles against his chest, knocking his forehead against Shane’s chin, and despite the fact they both just woke up, they dissolve into breathy laughter. 

Shane wonders if it’s that easy, if it’s just so simple to fall into themselves, into each other. If this will be so easy he’ll wonder why he agonized about it in the first place.

“Shane? Ryan?” It’s Devon, and she knocks again. 

Ryan untangles himself from Shane, but it’s clear he’s insisting Shane is the one getting up to answer the door, so he gets up and does so. 

Devon is standing there, a couple coffees in a tray, wrapped bagels. She pushes it to his chest. 

“We’re going to get going soon. I extended check out, but we have to leave by one,” she says. Shane accepts the food, and he lets her peek into the room. He knows her eyes settle on Ryan. 

“Is he okay?” she whispers. “Are _you_ okay?”

Shane shrugs. Because he doesn’t know. “We’ll be ready at one. Meet you downstairs?” 

She nods, looking from Shane back into the room before sighing and walking away. Shane lets the heavy door close. Shane sets the coffee tray on the table by the window, and he turns the AC back on. It roars to life before settling, blasting in cold air. Goosebumps rise on his arms.

“Hey.” 

Shane looks at Ryan where he’s laying. Ryan’s eyes are big; Shane has always loved them. Some days, it seems like Ryan harbors sunlight, has gone out of his way to tuck sunshine in the brown ridges of his irises. 

It’s muted, though, when Shane looks; Ryan’s eyes are overcast today. 

“Yeah?” Shane responds, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Ryan looks at him, studious eyes. He wrings his fingers together, like he’s nervous. “Will you lay back down with me? I don’t want to be up yet.” 

Shane nods, leaving the coffee and bagels to be forgotten. He slips into bed, and Ryan sighs. 

“I don’t want to be needy,” he says. “I don’t want—I don’t...This isn’t going to be a thing.”

“It’s okay,” Shane says. “It’s okay if it is.”

“Oh.” 

Shane searches Ryan’s face, tries to figure out what he’s thinking. 

“Cause…” Ryan hesitates. “Cause…”

It’s hard to tell secrets in the daylight, Shane thinks. He doesn’t hold it against Ryan for not being able to say it now. 

“Come here,” he says, instead. Ryan does, just like before, hiding his face in Shane’s chest, his hand splayed against Shane’s back. Shane’s arms wind around Ryan’s waist, and their legs tangle easily. 

“Do you think we can go home and be okay?” 

“We’ll get there,” Shane promises. “One way or another.”

**Author's Note:**

> im on [tumblr](https://businessbabybergara.tumblr.com/), come chat! thanks for reading!


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